


Lost

by madders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madders/pseuds/madders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought it would be okay. He thought that he'd be okay without him.</p><p>Notes: This is a Pre-Series AU set during the Stanford Era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

He thought it would be okay. He thought that he’d be okay without him.

He was just the little brother, not important, not like Dean. Dean had Dad, and that was all he needed. To have his dad and listen to his barked orders and to fight and fuck and hunt.

He didn’t need him. He’d been so sure.

So he’d left him, left everything behind, although the only thing that mattered was Dean, the soft light going hard and then dying in his eyes, the empty, flat look he’d seen as the bus drove away, the strong form seeming to curl in on itself and shrink like half of him had just been torn away.

And maybe it had been.

Sam could see that now. Could see the scars crisscrossing his brother’s skin, signs of battles lost, hiding the signs of even deeper hurts.

He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.

Dean was supposed to be okay. He wasn’t supposed to break. He was invincible.

Behind him he heard the door open, soft footsteps echoing on the linoleum floor.

“Sam?” the soft voice called, breaking the silence. Sam didn’t, couldn’t reply, words tasting like ashes in his throat.

A strong but gentle hand came to rest silently on his shoulder, offering him silent comfort and strength.

It wasn’t the hand he wanted to feel, not the strong, sure grip that had picked him up and dusted him down for as long as he could remember.

That hand was lying still in front of him, and would never touch him like that again.

The man’s other hand came to rest on the top of Sam’s bowed head, ruffling the hair gently like he’d done so many times before.

“Your father just called,” the voice spoke again. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

Sam nodded silently, knowing that Jim would feel it.

The grip tightened on his shoulder briefly before letting him go.

He stepped back and Sam felt him turn to leave, retracing his steps back to the doorway. He heard him hesitate, take a breath before speaking.

“I’m sorry Sam.” he whispered, infinite regret in his voice.

And Sam knew that he was. Sorry that he hadn’t been able to save Dean, sorry that the call he had made to Sam was too late, sorry that Dean had been gone before Sam made it back to see him, talk to him one last time, sorry that he hadn’t been able to see how broken Dean had become, how fragile, how easily he was going to break. Sorry for not seeing how this was going to end.

But Sam didn’t blame him. Not at all. Because none of that was Pastor Jim’s fault. There were so many ‘if onlys’ in their lives, so many questions with no answers, prayers that went unanswered, and Sam knew that despite everything, Jim had tried his best for them both.

So no, Sam couldn’t, wouldn’t blame him.

He couldn’t really blame anyone, not even his father, no matter how much he wanted to. Oh, he was angry, furious that John had decreed that he and Dean should split up, that he left Dean alone to face the darkness, as broken as he was. But he couldn’t blame him, because it was nothing that he himself hadn’t done.

And wasn’t that the ultimate truth in all of this?

That no matter what Sam and John did or said, every choice, every decision they made. The only one who ever paid for it was Dean.

Now, inevitably he had paid the ultimate price.

And Sam didn’t know how he was ever going to live with that.


End file.
